Concrete Sidewalk
by Indecisively Yours
Summary: He sometimes spends afternoons holed up in that room looking at that same picture.


Concrete Sidewalk

He likes to stare at that picture from time to time. Not because of the memories it brings back, but because of the way she looked. He likes to remember her in the way she was and no other way. He can never prevent the memories of it all flooding back into his mind, however. He never fights them off, either.

An argument started it all—an argument that started at their front door and continued as they strapped their child into her car seat. He can't really think about what the real nature of the argument was, but it happened. They seemed to be getting into argument after argument lately, and neither of them could exactly figure why.

Perhaps too many years together were the roots of the issue? He could never answer that question.

But he remembers that day better than he remembers anything else. The way they drove off in anger, headed to her mother's house for Sunday dinner. Could that have been the reason for the argument? He doesn't remember, honestly. All he remembers from that point in the car is the yelling; the yelling and the screaming and the toddler in the back seat that had to unfortunately endure all of this because her parents had more issues than anyone else out there.

It all happened too fast for his liking. Just some idiot who passed a red light as they passed the green light, was what they told him when he finally came to his senses as the car was pressed in between the vehicle and a lamppost.

Her side of the car got the most of the damage. He could see the door dinged in more than it normally should be. He could see the blood everywhere, both on him and on her. Only thing that brought him comfort was the toddler in the back seat crying her eyes out.

A quick painful turn to check on her and she was luckily all right. Untouched, he noticed once he caught a glimpse in the rearview mirror. He'd have to thank her guardian angel once he could get out of this.

She however wasn't doing all right. He tried his best to do what he could but nothing helped. She was unconscious, bleeding everywhere from her face to her torso to her legs. The glass of the window had shattered and slashed her face, marring her angelic features. She was losing a lot of blood, all too quickly.

He shouted at his daughter to not look, to shut her eyes, to pretend this was all a dream. She could only nod as she whimpered and tried her best to pretend this was all a dream.

The ambulance arrived quickly after, along with the fire rescue that came with the jaws of life to get her out of her clamped position. It all happened too quickly for him to remember the specifics. Took too much time to get her out of the car, he thinks. It felt like forever, in his mind, when it fact it was only fifteen minutes, tops.

They were all rushed to the hospital in the same ambulance. Her pulse was weakening too quickly for his liking, due to the loss of blood. He had to cover the toddler's ears. Even if she couldn't understand much of what was being thrown around, he didn't want her to question it later on. She kept her eyes shut tight, head buried into her father's chest. It was all a nasty dream for her.

They're separated upon arriving at the hospital. He's taken to an examination room to get checked out, get the cuts bandaged, while his daughter was taken to a separate bed next to him to be examined by the pediatrician. He kept hearing the word "lucky" thrown out by the doctor who observed not one cut on the toddler.

His mother arrives soon enough, pushing through people and doctors just to get to her son and granddaughter. She goes to him first, since the doctor's still examining the toddler, and temporarily pushes away a nurse applying first aid to the wounds on his head. There are tears in her eyes, just like there are tears in his eyes. They're crying for the same yet different reasons.

Her mother arrives soon after, tending to her granddaughter first then to him. She inquires about her daughter; he mumbles a response about being rushed to surgery and having to wait for an answer on her status.

So they huddle together, two mothers, and three children waiting for the news on a fourth. They've never been more of a family than this moment in time.

The doctor comes out an hour or so later. His face is fallen. He looks tired, just like the rest of them.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "She didn't make it."

He feels like he's back in that car now. He feels like he's the one getting hit now, at full force. For him, however, the car's ejected him onto the concrete sidewalk and left him for dead.

He's snapped back to the present by a pair of lips pressing themselves to his own. They're soft. They're warm. He can't help but react at that point, reaching up to caress the cheek of the face that owns said lips. A scar runs across that cheek, starting from the corner of her lip going up to her cheekbone. Some might say it has marred the once angelic face. He still sees the angelic face present and better than ever.

"I thought I told you to stop sitting here just looking at that picture. If you're going to hide out, at least bring Beth with you while I'm doing dishes," she tells him. She's pulled onto his lap with a laugh then. "Puck…were you thinking about that again?"

He leans up and drops a kiss to her scarred cheek, before dropping a kiss to her neck.

"I told you to stop. That person isn't me anymore."

"You're beautiful," he whispers, dropping a kiss to her collarbone now.

"The doctor didn't think so, if he suggested a plastic surgeon."

He shakes his head, moving her shirt off her shoulder a bit. Another scar reveals itself, yet he kisses it anyway.

"Puck!" she berates him, knowing that he isn't paying attention.

"You're perfect," he whispers, looking up at her now. "And these? Just reminding me how much I should tell you that every day and be thankful that you're still here."

"When'd you get so good at this?" she asks him softly, tears welling in the corner of her eyes. "Knowing how to make me feel this happy?"

"I've always had that gift. Just figured I should perfect it when you agreed to marry me," he laughs with a wink.

She shakes her head at his statement, then turns to usher the child standing by the door inside of the den. The child expresses her intentions to keep her father company only until her mother finishes dishes and they can enjoy their chosen movie of the night like they planned. He laughs, grabbing the child and placing her on his lap as he continues to watch whatever he had on television.

He almost lost his family once. Found out the day of the accident that his wife was pregnant and lost the child (what would have been their second baby girl). But at least he had her and he had their daughter. He still had his family. He'd be grateful for this every second of every minute of every day of his life.


End file.
